


That one night (under rain and blood).

by sheol93



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Attempted Murder, Attempted Sexual Assault, Blood, Bullying, Dismemberment, F/F, Homophobia, Murder, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 01:20:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6449770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheol93/pseuds/sheol93
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I hate her.<br/>That bitch.<br/>God, I hate her so much that I feel like dying everytime she looks at me like I am trash.<br/>I don't know what did I do to deserve her hate, but now I hate her as much as she hates me.<br/>Someday her life will be fucked up by somebody and I swear to God I'll be there watching it with a smirk on my face.<br/>I swear to God, Clarke Griffin.<br/>I, Lexa Woods, will let you fall and I will enjoy every second of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Intro.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting one of my works here.  
> Actually this is an adaptation of one of my stories into a Clexa fanfiction.  
> I don't know if you can call this a love story, since the knot of the plot isn't love, but of course there's always some of it.  
> Sorry if you find some grammar mistakes, English is not my first language.

Black. Warm. As a huge pool of darkness that fluctuated and flowed around me. A safe place.

I was gently rocked in that huge and quiet darkness as it was a haven of peace where from you just don't want to leave. I undoubtedly didn't want to get out of there.

I could spend endless hours floating in the blackness of unconsciousness, in those long nights without dreams that, for once, plunged me into a calm impossible to achieve while I'm awake.

No worries, no thrills. Only the quiet and peaceful black ocean that were my dreams and me. In my seventeen years of life I could not remember not even once if I ever had one dream, maybe they were not relevant enough to be remembered upon awakening. All I remember is that wonderful calm that was my mind when my eyes were closed.

Suddenly the dark sea of my dreams began to stir. Big and dark waves rose and jostled me hard from one side to another. My calm and my peace began to crack like glass falling to the ground and, suddenly, a bright light flashed through my beloved darkness, thunderous sound rumbling in my eardrums as if it were the most strident of musical instruments.

"Yah! Alexandria Woods! Wake up already!" Lazily, my eyes were opening.

There was the source of all my woes every morning, the only person who is able to enrage the dark and calmed sea of my mind. My sister.

"Have you been told that you are very noisy in the morning?" I said, my voice completely hoarse from sleep.

When she listened my voice, Anya stopped to shake me like crazy and, flashing a broad smile, she stood up to look me up and down, crossing her arms over her chest. I just wanted to kick her out of my room and sleep for a lifetime.

"Have you been told that you're too lazy to be quite an athlete? Lift your lazy ass out of bed already." I rolled my eyes almost immediately. Anya loved to bother me with my undying love for my sleeping hours. What's wrong with that? It is that since I practice taekwondo I have no right to sleep?

With a grunt, I got out of bed, running my hands through my long and curly brown hair, which, without looking in the mirror, I already knew that it was completely disheveled.

"Come on, go take a shower, I'll make breakfast." I nodded and after giving her a little kiss on the cheek, I started walking toward the bathroom, dragging my feet. "Don't be late, you have to go to school."

My stomach tightened helplessly and my sleepy face hardened its expression without my sister noticing. I hated that infernal place.

Once in the bathroom, I undressed and looked at myself in the mirror, letting my fingers to wander slowly through the long strands of my brown hair, my green orbs studying every inch of my body. With a deep, heavy sigh, I got into the shower and let the hot water relax my muscles, but my whole being was still in tension.

My name is Alexandria Woods. My friends call me Lexa. At that time I was seventeen and I was a senior in high school. I lived in a small town which nearest city was TonDC, in the province of Arkadia. It was six months since I had come to town and, initially, after living all my life in Polis I had a quite hard time adapting.

It can be said that I was a city girl. Even the way I talked was a fact. Why I moved to such a remote place?

After the death of my parents, the only family I had left was my older sister, Anya Woods, who decided to move to a place far away from everything in search of spiritual peace.

Honestly, the place was not that bad. The food was great, the people were nice, the atmosphere was quiet, and did I mention that the food was great?

"HEY, ALEXANDRIA WOODS!!!" I could hear my sister from downstairs and a heavy sigh escaped my lips, closing the water jet of the shower.

After a few minutes, and already completely groomed and dressed in the blue plaid school uniform, I went down to meet my sister, who was waiting quietly at the table. In front of her were two huge plates full of food.

"Woah, anyone would think that you want to cram me to death..." I said mockingly, leaving a loud kiss on her cheek.

"I should, to be honest, you are way too skinny."

"It's an athlete's thing." I shrugged and took a piece of bread, puting it in my mouth.

"Well, Miss athlete, you have ten minutes to get to school, so if I were you, I would eat fast." My eyes widened and, like an animal, I started getting food into my mouth.

"DAMN IT, ANYA!" I exclaimed, and still chewing my breakfast, I ran out the door, my sister's laughter echoing in the background.

\---

The way to school was quieter than usual, considering that delays like the one of that morning used to happen often. Not that I was lazy or an absent-minded person, I just loved to sleep, I felt at peace sleeping.

It was a kind of peace that, otherwise, I could not feel. With a deep sigh, I stopped my steps when I got to the school's entrance.

Another fateful day began.

Heavily, I grabbed my backpack hard and entered the building. I just walked a couple of meters when a tall and corpulent body bumped into me, throwing my backpack and my books on the floor.

"Fuck…"

"Watch where you're going, you weirdo." The voice that I recognized as Finn Collins echoed through the hall. I looked at him and erased as much as I could the desire to go after him and kick his ass.

After all, that was what happened every single day.

It was not that I did not have friends or that everybody bullied me. I knew for sure that there were people in that damn building that had me at least a modicum of appreciation. And if it were not for that bitch, everything had gone better.

Whose bitch am I talking about? Clarke Griffin, of course. The queen of the school. Beautiful like a rose, but poisonous as the most despicable of the snakes. And with an irrational hatred agaisnt me that I couldn't understand no matter how much I thought about it.

Hurtful comments, pranks at my table in class or in my locker, direct confrontations. Those things were happening every single day and my sister had no idea.

Worst of all is that I could not lay a finger on that damn bitch. The only time I tried my body ended completely bruised. Yes, I am black belt in taekwondo, but I'm also a pretty thin girl, little can be done against five guys who are tall and strong as a horse.

Speaking of the devil... There she was, bright as a star, but any hint of charm disappeared when she stood in front of me, her arms crossed over her chest and her long blonde hair falling over her shoulders.

"Well, well, the dyke has arrived to school..." Oh, right, I forgot to point out that big homophobia of hers, how could I forgot?

"If you'll excuse me, I have no time for your nonsense." I said and, without giving any glance at her, started walking, moving to her side to go towards my class. But of course, the princess would not let me get away. I noticed how her hands gripped my arm hard and pushed me backwards. They were cold as ice. My teeth clenched tightly.

"Look, Clarke, I don't want any trouble."

"I do not care what do you want or what you don't want. Are you afraid, Woods? Why do not you go back to your beloved Polis? Here we do not want disgusting people like you." A strong and loud sigh escaped my lips. I was about to lose my patience. My fists clenched tightly. Clarke’s piercing blue eyes dropped to my hands and a sly smile appeared on her lips. "Wow, wow, the dyke is getting angry. What are you going to do? Are you going to hit me?" She said in a singsong voice and, on impulse, I took a few quick steps toward her and raised my right fist, which quickly aimed to Clarke’s face. Oddly, the smile that was on her face widened a little more. Danger.

Almost at the same time that my fist was about to hit Clarke’s face, a devastating punch slammed into my left cheek, throwing me back into the air. I noticed as I was falling how my bottom lip opened and how my mouth was filled with blood. I fell back to the ground and my head slammed against the white tiles of the building entrance. I opened my eyes as I could and, near to Clarke, I saw one of her minions, Bellamy Blake, the biggest thug of her entourage and, apparently, her new boyfriend.

"Good job, honey." Clarke said, encircling Bellamy’s arm with her own, while he could only smile like a dumbass. Disgusting. "Let's go to class."

Before moving from his place, Bellamy gave me a hard look and pointed a finger at my face. "Try to approach her again and you will be just a piece of meat with no face, because I will give you such a beating that not even your sister will be able to recognize you." And with those words, Bellamy put one arm over Clarke’s shoulders and both headed to their classes.

And there I was. Lying on the floor, in pain, with a split lip and broken pride.

But after all, it was what happened every day.

\---

"Lexa, you should stop getting into this kind of mess." Was what Raven said as she examined the cut that had formed in my lower lip thanks to the behemoth Bellamy Blake.

"You think I want to end bruised every day? I don't go after them, they go after me. Rather than them, it is she who is obsessed with me." I hissed through my clenched teeth, a deep frown between my eyebrows while Raven was still touching my split lip. "I hate her so much..."

We were on our usual spot on the roof of the school. Octavia, one of the few close friends I had at the place, eventhough she was Bellamy’s little sister, was finishing an exam and Raven and I were just enjoying the sun at lunchtime.

"If it was not because she has an army of minions around her I would have give her what she deserves." I said hoarsely, hatred could be heard in every syllable of my voice.

"Are you sure that you don't know why does she hate you so much?"

"I have not the faintest idea... But as she always insults my sexuality, I guess it may be that fucking homophobia."

"It may be... Did not you confessed to one of the girls of her inner circle long ago?" I sighed loudly, bringing my right hand to my forehead to massage it a little.

It was true. And I really do not understand how someone as nice and friendly as Costia Forest could stand breathing the poisoned air that was floating permanently around Clarke Griffin. She was like an angel, my lab partner in chemistry class. Always willing to help and with a huge smile on her face. When I confessed was when the nightmare that had become my school days began. I even stopped seeing Costia in chemistry class, the only moment that brought joy to me every day. Also I've never knew her answer.

"I can't wait to return to Polis... My life was much better there..."

\---

Strangely, after the encounter that morning, nothing else happened throughout the rest of the day in school. Weird. I should have sensed that something bad would happen, but naive me, I assumed that the hateful princess had more important things to do.

I was leaning against the front door of the school. Classes had ended and I was waiting for Raven, as every day, to go walking towards our houses. With a sigh, my eyes raised to the sky, where huge gray clouds crossed the blue expanse with full slowness. Great, just great. I hated rain.

I lifted one of my hands and gently rubbed my neck, resting my head in the door with a heavy sigh. Then I felt movement beside me and turned my head in that direction.

Clarke Griffin. And she was alone. Something strange considering she was always surrounded by, at least, five or seven guys, which I'm sure she had fucked more than once. Perhaps even at the same time.

Just seeing her my blood seethed and my mouth salivated of pure hatred. My fists closed tightly to see how the princess of the school, relaxed and carefree, was walking towards the entrance with light steps.

I've never hated someone so much in my life. It was a feeling that burned me in the depths of my soul and made that countless of preposterous and sinister thoughts went through my mind.

On impulse, I began to walk behind her, my hands deep in the pockets of the sweatshirt I wore over my uniform. People were walking around me, but I had eyes only for Clarke Griffin, my gaze devouring every one of her steps so closely that I didn't even realized toward where she was heading.

And when I notice that we had reached a desert dead end, was too late. A trap.

Strong hands grabbed my arms and held me in the air, my backpack falling to the ground. Clarke turned around and gave me the most venomous of the smiles. Only God knows how I wanted to wipe it from her face with my fist.

"Well, well... So predictable, weirdo." Clarke said in a singsong voice, approaching me until she was a breath away from my face, her blue eyes sparkling with wicked glee. "What were you going to do to me, huh? Hit me? I thought we had already said that this does not work this way." The grip on my arms became stronger, Bellamy Blake and Finn Collins holding me tightly, their fingers digging incisively into my muscles. My teeth clenched tightly in an attempt to prevent a hiss of pain that was trying to escape my lips. "You are disgusting." Clarke said and, with a look of infinite contempt, she spat in my face.

I could feel the warmth of her saliva running down my forehead and my right cheek. My fists clenched hard and I tried to struggle to break free from the grip of Bellamy and Finn. My fist craved her face so much that even my knuckles ached.

"You're shit. A bitch. And someday your life will be fucked up and I will watch it with the same sneer with which you look at me. I'll let you fall and I will enjoy every second." I whispered shakily and those were the last words that escaped my lips before Bellamy and Finn threw me into the wall with brutal force.

\---

Although at night all my back muscles were sore and a huge purple bruise began to form in my skin, I could not stay home.

Too many strong emotions had crossed my mind that day and I needed to release them in some way, or I would go crazy. So, like every night, I took my backpack with a change of clothes and crossed walking the small town, where a modest taekwondo dojo opened its doors to any fan of martial arts or anyone who would like to train a bit and do some exercise.

It was already after 10 pm when I arrived and, after putting on my white dobok and my black belt around my waist, I went to the mat with the need to kick a few asses.

On each jump, every punch, every kick I freed some of my frustration, imagining the face of Clarke Griffin and her thugs in each area of skin where my punches impacted.

When the hours went by, the taekwondo students were slowly leaving the dojo, but I did not even realize it until I was alone in the middle of the mat. I still felt the rage twisting inside me, so, not thinking about the complaints that the sore muscles of my back made with every movement, I approached one of the large and heavy punching bags that were hanging from the ceiling.

Countless kicks and punches struck the hard surface again and again, at a rate nearly impossible. Sweat permeated my face and I could feel how it went down my back and my chest, under the dobok.

"Hey, Lexa."

At that time, my punches stopped and I opened my hands to stop the movement of the punching bag with my palms, turning around toward the voice to make a respectful bow.

"Master..."

"Why don't you go home? It's about the two in the morning. You've trained for four hours, is there something bothering you?" The master of the small dojo asked, looking at me with curiosity, his black eyes boring into green as if he was trying to read my soul. I rushed to shake my head.

"No, master." He nodded.

"Go get changed and go home, then. Watch your back, it doesn't let you take the punches with all the strength that you should." And after a little bow, the master of the dojo turned around and disappeared into his little office.

I should have known that the grandmaster would realize that there was a problem. He was a relatively young man, but he had a fairly high dan and was a very observant person. After a quick shower and after I changed my clothes, I left the dojo.

With every step I took towards my house, I felt how my back sent painful spasms to my legs and my arms. I sighed loudly. Tomorrow I could not get out of bed because of the soreness.

I had not advanced more than five meters when, suddenly, a bright light went at full speed across the sky, followed by the deafening crack of a thunder. Perfect. Half a minute later, the rain began to pour. A new sigh escaped my lips when, in a couple of minutes, I was already soaked. It was late already and there was nobody around me that could give me a ride home.

I stopped in the middle of the street and looked at the sky, squinting because of the water that threatened to get inside my eyes. "God, do you hate me?" It was my only question into the black sky. In response, a new blue streak shone again through the dense rain clouds and another thunder rang in my eardrums like a bomb. "I guess that's a yes."

I shrugged my shoulders because, what else could happen?

Bad question at the wrong time.

Through the thick rain, I saw a figure walking in the opposite direction to me at the other side of the street, dry and safe under a huge umbrella. I could recognize that blonde hair anywhere. Only one person could make my body react so automatically.

Clarke Griffin.

What the hell was Clarke Griffin doing walking in the rain at two in the morning? Probably she just came out Bellamy's house after a fucking session.

My fists clenched hard and I exhaled a deep breath, trying to calm down.

"Do not fall to her level, Lexa. You're way better than her." I said again and again, fighting the urge to go after her and teach her a lesson for once.

Then I saw it. A man dressed in black and with a big hood over his head. My eyes alternated curiously between Clarke, who had just turned to her right and started walking through an alley, looking for a shortcut, I suppose; and between the man, who ran when he lost her sight, slowing his steps when he reached the entrance of the alley.

A crooked smile appeared on my lips, because the image of Clarke Griffin being assaulted and robbed in the middle of a rainy night like this seemed to be a more than adequate revenge and, certainly, it was something I was not willing to miss.

Stealthy as a fox, I crossed the deserted street and once in the entrance of the dark alley, I hid behind some large dumpsters. I arrived on time.

From my hiding place I could see, in fact, that the man was nothing more than a thief and he yanked at Clarke trying to snatch her purse, that was hanging from her shoulder.

Surprisingly, Clarke fought back, refusing to lose her belongings. What a stupid.

"What are you doing, scumbag!" Exclaimed Clarke, pulling her bag again and again. "Let go of my bag!"

With a loud grunt, the thief raised his right hand and swatted Clarke's face with its back, knocking her down. My soul suddenly felt lighter with pure joy. I could not wait for the man to run off to go to Clarke and laugh at her misfortune. She deserved it.

But, to my surprise, that was not what happened. The next words and actions of the thief froze my blood.

"You're feisty, eh? I will teach you a lesson, little bitch." The man said, getting off his pants zipper. Clarke's face became a mask that reflected absolute terror and she stood up of the floor and tried to escape but the man grabbed her by her hair, now completely soaked, and slammed her against the wall, pressing his body to her as his hands went under the skirt of her uniform, Clarke's cries echoing between the walls of the alley, overlapping the sound of the thundering rain as I watched them from behind the dumpster.


	2. Problem.

Hidden behind the huge dumpster, I watched paralyzed as Clarke tried to resist the man's hands, who was trying desperately to reach the girl's underwear.

Suddenly, the rapist's fist struck hard against Clarke's face and from my hiding place I could see through the heavy rain as the brightness of consciousness seemed to leave the always bright blue eyes of the girl. The man put his hands on her chest and with a strong pull, he tore the buttons of Clarke's shirt, his lips sticking to the skin of her neck and her bare chest, skin now soaked by the incessant rain.

I started walking backwards, debating internally with my own mind. I hated her and she hated me, so it was completely normal to leave her to her fate. Right?

But no. Damn me for being such a good person, because before I knew about my own acts, I had left my hiding place and, before the rapist got to lower her underwear, and ignoring the burst of pain that crossed my bruised back when I got rid of my backpack, one of my strong kicks threw him several meters away from Clarke, who fell to her knees on the flooded floor.

"Next time get down with someone your own size, piece of shit." I muttered, raising my fists and half opening my legs in a defensive position. Out of the corner of my eye I could see how Clarke tried to close her broken school shirt with trembling hands and how she made a ball with her body on the floor, clutching her purse against her chest.

The rapist's sardonic laugh made me bring my attention back to him. He was cracking his knuckles and, with a movement of his head, he pulled back the soaked hood of his sweatshirt.

"Well, well, after all today I'm going to fuck two for the price of one. And both of them are hot as hell. Well, seems that today is my lucky day." The man spat and when a new blue streak crossed the clouded sky, I could see under that fast light how a huge scar went across one of his cheeks.

"No wonder you're so happy, with that thing on your face I doubt like a lot that any mentally sane girl would like your dick in her pussy. You are fucking disgusting." I clicked my tongue, moving a little to the right to cover Clarke's body with my own.

His face contracted in a grimace of anger and he suddenly ran toward me, raising a fist to hit me. I blocked it easily with my left arm, and before he could do anything about it, my right fist hit him hard in his stomach. A second later, I turned around using my left foot and my right leg slammed on his side, throwing him a couple of meters away. The burning sensation that traveled from my back to my whole body made me hiss loudly.

"You're good, baby. You're good." The man said, standing up again, running the back of his left hand across his lips. "But that will not prevent me to kill you before the end of the night." I could just click my tongue again because of his words.

"Try me, bastard."

Again, he approached me and the speed of the punch he threw at me caught me off guard, I had no time to block it. Instead, I dodged it by pulling back my body with a jump, I could notice how the air of his punch whistled a few inches from me.

A grin spread across my lips to have been able to avoid his punch, but it only lasted a split second because, before than my feet could touch the ground again, I felt a sharp pain in my left arm. This time it was he who smiled victoriously.

That bastard had a switchblade. And he had fucking cut my arm.

I hissed loudly and I took my right hand to my left arm, feeling the heat of the blood soaking my cold fingers through the fabric of my sweatshirt. Bad move, Lexa.

The rapist used that moment to threw me a new punch, which hit squarely against my face, right on the cheek where Bellamy Blake had punched me that very morning. At that time, I could taste blood in my mouth again.

"Come on, bitch, I thought you'd come to save your friend. You are boring. Maybe I should re-focus on her, shall I?" He said with a harsh laugh, turning his head toward where a terrified Clarke was crouched between the wall and the dumpster.

Noticing his gaze on her, the girl hid behind her purse, her body trembling because of the sobs that were escaping her throat.

A blow of anger born inside my soul to see her in that state.

At that time, I surprised myself.

How could I feel any hint of empathy, compassion or need to protect a person who for months had made my life miserable?

"Leave her alone!" I shouted, almost like a wild animal growling and, taking fast strides towards him, I jumped as high as I could, raising my right fist to hit him.

Then I saw how the man raised his arms to cover his face, leaving the knife exposed to my view. While he had that thing in his hands I was at a distinct disadvantage, so I changed the trajectory of my movement and hit his right wrist with one of my feet in a well-aimed kick, making the weapon fell several meters back away of the rapist. A new born victorious smile was painted on my lips.

"Bitch!" Shouted the rapist and, before I could feel the floor again under my feet, he grabbed me by the neck and slammed my body hard into the alley wall.

A scream of pain escaped my throat, because of the burning sensation that went through my sore back muscles and that spread all over my body. Gritting my teeth, I used all my strength to lift one of my legs and hit him in the stomach to separate him from me.

I fell down and I took one of my hands to put it in my neck, where lingered the feeling of his fingers digging my skin, while my eyes never left his disfigured and wet face. Meanwhile, Clarke didn't stop her sobbings.

My breathing was deep and fast, I could feel that every second that passed, my energy was being slowly drained away. I spat the blood that periodically filled my mouth and stood up, running a hand through my lips to erase any trace of the precious red liquid, which was still running down my arm.

The man also incorporated, one hand placed on his stomach. A lopsided smile crossed his lips.

"You're tired, right?"

He was trying to provoke me, and I knew it. I also knew that I could not let him get away with it, because I would lose my concentration. And I also knew that it could not happen because, if I made a single failed movement, both, Clarke and I, would end up dead that night.

But even being aware of this, his next move caught me by surprise and all my caution went to hell.

With long strides, the rapist's objective changed and he approached Clarke. Clarke, as any response, screamed and sobbed even louder, crouched behind her purse. I felt how my eyes opened wide and, before my brain could process any orders, my legs ran in his direction.

Which was what he wanted because, as I approached him, the man turned to me and, with devastating force, his right foot slammed right into my stomach.

My eyes opened disproportionately because of the strength of that kick and I felt like drops of blood that were left in my saliva flew out of my mouth to get lost in the huge puddles of rain. I could feel even how the vomit of the sandwich I had eaten five hours threatened to climb up my throat.

I fell face down to the ground, gasping for breath and feeling like my head was spinning, and before I could recover myself, he was on top of me again.

With his big and heavy body imprisoning me to the ground; his huge, cold and rough hands grabbed my neck as if he would break it at any time.

I was suffocating, and I felt like the air was starting to fail in my lungs. The smile on his face could be seen in his eyes, and my own face with congested expression was reflected in his dark and dilated pupils.

"Do you want to say something to your friend before you die, little bitch?" He said with rasped voice and I could see how he was leaning toward me. The next thing I noticed was the warmth of a tongue caressing my cheek. "I would love to fuck you as well, but you're very troublesome. I'll be more than happy to fuck the other chick making her look at your dead body. Then, I'll kill her too, of course."

Tears filled my eyes and my gaze was becoming more and more blurred, more and more darker. I could hardly keep my eyes open and my hands had already given up on trying to free my neck from the strong grip of the rapist.

I was about to give up.

And suddenly, the pressure in my neck slowed and a blow of oxygen entered my lungs like a hurricane, the scream uttered by the man thundering in my ear without mercy.

I forced myself to open my eyes and I saw that Clarke was standing next to us, her hands, weirdly, full of blood. The switchblade fell on the ground with a thud, next to me.

She had stabbed his back.

The man raised his arm and hit Clarke, knocking her to the ground again.

Without thinking about it, I lifted one of my trembling hands and grabbed the knife, and before he could get up of me, I stuck the knife hard into his flesh.

The sharp blade of the knife pierced his neck from side to side and his eyes, cold and bright, lost suddenly any trace of life, his heavy body falling once again on mine and the grip of his hand in my neck losing any strength.

For a moment, the only sound that harbored Clarke and me in this lonely dark alley was the howl of the thunders and the sound of the heavy rain, which continued to fall, taking with it the blood that flowed from the body of the now dead rapist.

When I noticed that I had recovered a little of my strength, I took off the body on top of me and I stood up. My clothes were completely drenched with blood, so I decided to take off my sweatshirt.

I approached Clarke, who was still on the ground looking at the lifeless body of the man with her sky blue eyes wide open. She looked up at me, her eyes reflecting the intense panic she felt, in which I could see mingled a glow of relief.

I bent down to be at her eye level and stared at her.

"Are you okay?" I asked cautiously. Clarke nodded slowly. I returned the gesture. "We can not leave it like this, Clarke. And although I don't like, we're in this together. No one can find out what happened here, okay?" Clarke nodded again and I stood up, holding out a hand to help her.

Clarke looked at my hand and grabbed it to stand up. I looked at her for a few seconds before switching my gaze to the corpse that was lying in the middle of the alley, between endless puddles of rain water. A heavy sigh escaped my lips.

"This looks like a scene from one of those horror movies, doesn't it?"

I crouched next to the body and turned it around, watching as a large pool of blood had begun to stain the floor filled with water. I hissed loudly, that would be a problem. I looked up at Clarke, squinting due to heavy rain.

"Do you have your car nearby?" Clarke nodded and pointed toward the entrance of the alley. Through the rain I could see her white Ford Focus glistening under the raindrops.

"Do you think you will be able to drive? We have to put the body in your car and take it away from here." I stood up heavily, running my hands through my drenched hair. "We must get rid of it."

Clarke nodded again and, without saying a word, she grabbed her purse from the floor and ran to the car. Less than a minute later, I saw how the lights of the car went on and the vehicle started to get in reverse into the narrow alley. How she managed to do it without scratching the car with the walls is still a mystery to me.

Once the car was in front of me, I opened the trunk and, using all my remaining strength, I managed to put the corpse inside. A strong hiss escaped my lips again. The muscles of my body were complaining because how much they were mistreated that day, and the cut of the knife on my arm was still bleeding.

I patted the back window of the car and Clarke drove it out of the alley. Meanwhile, I grabbed my bag from the floor and gave a couple of kicks to the dark pools that filled the alley, trying to somehow blur the blood. Hopefully the heavy rain would take care of the rest.

When the car came out of the alley, I ran in its direction. I opened the passenger door and sat down with a strong and shuddering sigh. Out of the corner of my eye I could see how Clarke's body trembled violently.

We were soaked and the cold was beginning to get into us. I couldn't even feel my own fingers. I opened my bag and pulled out of the top of my dobok, which I put over Clarke's shoulders.

Clarke looked at me, but I looked away and fixed my gaze on the road, watching how the huge drops of rain crashed against the glass.

"It smells kinda sweaty, but at least you won't be that cold." I cleared my throat a bit and, without looking at her, I put on my seat belt. I looked at the car clock. It read three o'clock am.

A hard expression took over my face and I turned to look at her, nodding my head as a signal to re-start the car's engine.

"Come on, Clarke. We have so much work to do."


	3. Solution.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Graphic descriptions of gory stuff ahead.

The rain was still falling, relentless and merciless, hammering the glass of the car with the strenght of nature, a thunderous noise licking every corner inside the vehicle. The tension could be cut with a knife and I felt that if I moved even the slightlest, we would explode.

The weight of the body that was in the trunk seemed to slow down the speed of the car, and the darkness of the night did not allowed to see anything but what was in those small areas that were illuminated by some occasional and lost lamppost. A few minutes ago we had left the town and Clarke had not said a word yet.

I turned a little my face toward her, fixing my gaze on her side profile. Her jaw was locked tightly and she almost didn't blink, her eyes fixed on the road. Her hands tightened around the steering wheel of the car, her knuckles as white as my dobok, which was still covering the upper half of her body.

But she was still shaking. Her long blonde hair dripped incessantly, some solitary drops sliding down her temples and the bridge of her nose, where, once at the tip, it rushed suicidal to die on the soaked fabric of her torn shirt.

I was not much better. Moreover, I knew that if I looked at myself, maybe I would faint because of how much of a disaster I must be looking. I was full of blood, mine and from another person, plus I was complety soaked. My long brown hair was stuck to my face, no matter how much I tried to fix it to adopt a more or less decent look in the middle of that disaster.

A dull ache had settled on my back and the cut on my arm throbbed insistently, as if it tried to make me remember it was there, like if it tried to make me remember that it was my fault that a man was dead at that time, waiting for his fate inside the trunk of Clarke’s white Ford Focus.

I let out a loud sigh, and from the corner of my eye I could see how Clarke pressed her jaw with a little more force. No doubt she was shocked because of what happened. Fortunately not every fucking day a crazy bastard assaults on the street and tries to rape you and kill you.

With no coherent explanation, an intense wave of sympathy ran through me. Clarke was the worst person I had met in my life, the most cruel and twisted person I've ever seen, but no one deserves to experience something like what we had both suffered that night.

Hawking, I tried to get her attention, raising one of my eyebrows to see how she moved her head slightly in my direction.

"May l..?" I whispered softly, gesturing with one hand the control panel of the car, where the heating button glowed red and tempting in that cold night, the car clock ticking half past three. Clarke simply nodded.

Without hesitation, I pressed the button and in a few minutes, a pleasant warmth began to fill the car. Clarke stopped shaking and the fierce grip of her hands on the wheel of the car was losing its strength. A small smirk was painted on my lips.

"Clarke, where are we going?" I asked suddenly, turning my body on the seat to look at her curiously. After a half an hour's drive we had already left the town and one of the large forest surrounding it was visible through the blackness of the night.

"My house." It was all Clarke said, her voice devoid of any kind emotion. My lips drew a small O and I nodded. It definitely was the last place I had expected, because... Who takes a corpse to her parents' house?

\---

Surely everything I had imagined about Clarke’s house did not approached at all to what it actually was. It was a fairly large house, with three long chimneys that seemed that were trying to scratch the sky covered with gray clouds, which did not stop spilling their precious salty tears on us.

When the car stopped in front of the house, the sound of loud barking made me give a sharp jump in the seat. I turned my head and through the window and thanks to the light of the entry of the house, I could see three huge dogs that looked more like wolves barking furiously, ears and tails stretched in a defensive position. Suddenly, getting out of the car did not seem like a good idea.

I looked at Clarke and for the first time that night, a small smile graced her lips, two little dimples making presence at the corners of her mouth. Clarke got out and walked to the dogs, mumbling sweet nonsense and without caring at all that the rain continued to hammer on her. The three dogs, seeing her, sat meekly, moving their tails in a gesture of complete happiness, waiting to be petted by their owner.

Clarke turned her face and looked at me with those blue eyes that, even if a little, seemed to have regained some of their brightness. With a small nod, she told me to get out of the car.

After getting out the dogs stood back again, watching at me warily. Clarke rushed to fondle them behind their ears, muttering under her breath.

"Shhh, Bob, Ted, Ketchup... Do not be rude." Clarke gave them a reprimand, offering me a very small smile. "They don't bite if you are not afraid, do not worry."

"It's hard not to be afraid, they are huge..." I said, raising my eyebrows, but still I moved a little closer to her, cautiously stretching a hand.

One of the dogs, with thick reddish fur, approached my hand and sniffed it curiously and, eventually, put its big head under my palm, a clear requirement to scratch its ears. "Did you really named your dog Ketchup?" If it wasn't because it was something very hard to believe, I'd swear that the blush had seized her cheeks, but in the dim light of the entrance, I doubted that was what had happened.

"Shut up, Woods."

"Yes, ma'am."

Suddenly, with a wave of her hand, and authoritarian words, Clarke sent the dogs to the large garden behind her house. With a firm nod, Clarke approached the garage door, opening it. "Come in, I'll get the car." I nodded my head and I entered the garage, where an absolute darkness enveloped me until the headlights of the Ford Focus allowed me to see what looked like the inside of a bakery.

A bakery?

When Clarke parked the car and closed the garage door, she walked over to a wall and after pressing a switch, an intense white light permeated every corner of the bakery. I looked around, trying to absorb every detail of the room.

"A bakery?" I turned to Clarke, who had left the car again.

"It's my dad’'s. He was a baker." I nodded, approaching one of the large ovens of that room. Clarke let me do on my own, disappearing up some stairs after saying that she was going to find some dry clothes.

The room was huge. The car occupied a lot of space, but it could fit two or three more cars without problem. Three large ovens were in the most remote area of the room and a pair of long metal tables were in the middle. Loaf pans, trays of sweets and lots of cabinets covered the walls. On one side were boxes with some tools.

I nodded, my thoughts going back to the body that was waiting inside the car trunk.

"This can be very useful..." I muttered, nodding my head again, and went to the car once again.

I opened the trunk and, with a coldness that surprised myself, I saw the black lump that was the body of the attempt of a rapist who had attacked Clarke. Without explanation a strong anger, hot and burning, was born in my chest.

"You bastard..." I growled through clenched teeth, images of our fight playing in my mind, the echo of his words and threats ringing in my ears.

Using all my strength, I slipped my arms under his and pulled him out of the car. Dragging him on the ground, I hissed because of the bloodstains that were impregnating the white tiles of the floor. When I finally left the man's body on one of the large metal tables, I let out a heavy sigh that was mixed with a hiss of pain.

My back muscles complained with every movement and the pulsing pain in the cut of my arm had become more intense, a warm sensation going down my arm, saying that the wound had reopened and blood flow freely again.

The door through which Clarke had disappeared opened again and her face reemerged. I lifted my gaze to her and, for a moment, all rational thought disappeared from my brain.

Some shorts left her legs, thin and shapely, naked to the eye and her hair, long and blonde, was pulled back into a ponytail, leaving her face uncovered, her slightly chubby cheeks red due to the change of temperature, some bruises due to rapist's punches beginning to form in her left cheekbone. A floral print shirt hugged her curves and clung to her body.

At that moment I understood why people were so attracted to her. Clarke Griffin was breathtaking.

Clarke cleared her throat softly and went down the small flight of stairs coming to the garage, with dry pants and a shirt in her hands, and also a pair of warm socks, the same socks she wore on her feet.

"I brought this for you to change." She said, approaching to me and extending the dry clothes in my direction. I blinked a few times and, tilting my head slightly, grabbed clothes, staring at her before leaving them aside. "I prefer to deal with all of this first before changing." Clarke nodded, dropping her gaze to the floor. "I've been thinking about what we can do with him. We can not leave any evidence and we can only wait for the rain to wipe any trace of blood that was left in the alley." I muttered, moving my gaze around the bakery, noticing a toolbox that was on one side of the room. I approached it and, bending down, I looked around for a bit until I got a small saw. "I found a saw, I think we can cut him and use your dad's ovens, I hope he does not mind us to use it without permission, but is a silent way and that will not leave a trace. Also we won't wake up your parents, it's already late. What do you think?" I lifted my gaze to Clarke and my brows furrowed sharply.

I left the saw on the table next to the man's body, and approached her. She had something in her hands. A wallet. And it was open. A photo of a little boy was on one side and Clarke was pulling out the man's ID card. I quickly snatched it from her hand and closed it, throwing it far away.

Clarke winced and looked up at me, her eyes filled with tears and her body shaking aggressively. "L-Lexa... He had a son... We killed a man and left the Smith family without a father..." The tears started rolling down her face and she was looking at her hands as if the blood of millions of people were staining her fingers. "We are monsters..." Clarke's knees loosened and then I quickly grabbed her body with my arms, preventing the girl to fell to the ground. Clarke was still shaking violently. "We should go to the police and surrender, we shou-"

Clarke stopped suddenly when I slapped her, the sound of the slap echoing aggressively between the walls of the garage-bakery. Clarke stopped shaking and looked up at me, her surprised eyes red with tears that didn't stop to fall, one hand rising to her cheek. I clenched my jaw tightly, without stop thinking about the punchs of the man in my body, without stop thinking about his venomous words, without stop thinking about Clarke’s screams of terror.

Certainly that's something I don't think I will ever forget.

"Do not say that." I repeated softly, through clenched teeth. A dull anger had taken over my chest and throbbed, burning, between my ribs. "That son of a bitch was going to rape you, Clarke. That son of a bitch was going to kill us both. I do not want you to cry, I do not want you to blame yourself and I do not want you to regret it. It was him or us."

I released Clarke's body and the girl fell to her knees, tears still streaming down her cheeks, her lost gaze fixed on the bloodied white tiles of the floor. I turned around and, still dripping blood and rain, I went to the man's wallet and picked it up off the floor. "This will end in the fire too." I said and, with a coldness that surprised myself and Clarke’s sobs as background music, I approached the table, grabbed the saw and started working.

\---

The saw was sharp, so sharp that it would not surprise me in the least if I could cut the metal table where the body was placed with it. With a cold blood that, even today, I feel pretty proud of, I undressed the corpse, whose blood was still dripping, in a macabre rhythm that was marked by the red drops impacting with the white tiles.

Gradually, a mountain of wet and dark clothes formed on one side of the table, next to Clarke, who was sitting with her knees to her chest and her face buried in her arms. I decided to let her recover at her pace. I was very sure that I was not going to jail or having problems for saving our lives. If the load of guilt was too much for her, I would not fall with her.

Clenching my jaw, I let my gaze to stroll through the now naked body of the dead man. I grabbed one of his hands and moved a little one of his fingers. The movement was fluid, but soon the rigor mortis would begin to manifest and then to get rid of the body would be much more complicated. I flipped my gaze through the saw and then my eyes fell back on the ball that Clarke’s body was next to the table.

I cursed myself internally for being so weak and approached her, crouching to be at her height. I stared at her and a deep sigh escaped my lips.

"Clarke." She did not answer, the only indication that she had heard me was a tremor that ran through her body. "Clarke, I need to know if the ovens make noise, I want to use them and I do not want to wake your parents."

"We're just you and me here." Clarke said, her voice muffled against her knees. One of my eyebrows lifted helplessly. It was nearly four in the morning.

"Where are your parents?"

"My dad died five years ago. My mother has been working overseas since ten years ago. I live alone with my dogs." Clarke raised her head, looking at me with those deep blue eyes, now red with tears and empty of emotions. Her voice was hollow, without inflection, as if her soul had escaped in every sob. "Do whatever you want, nobody will hear us here, there are no houses in several kilometers around."

Clarke rose from the ground, shaking her legs. Some bloodstains smeared her thighs. Without getting up, I looked up at her. "Where are you going?" I asked, uncertainly.

"I'll get something to clean up the mess we're going to do here. You're right. It was him or us." Clarke looked down at me and still, her eyes didn't show any emotion. I clenched my jaw again and got up, nodding.

"We have to clean the car. And the ovens. The floor, the table and the tools. We have to burn the clothes and do something with the smell that will remain here after." Clarke approached the door leading into her house, stopping at the few steps that were in front of her to look at me.

"Do not worry about the smell. The chimneys are equipped for that, no matter what is in the ovens, the smoke is clean and odor free." And with those words, Clarke disappeared, leaving me alone once again.

I stared at the door for a few seconds, which seemed to drag as if they were minutes, hours. With a heavy sigh, I returned to the table and grabbed the saw, my eyes examining the body of the rapist.

Tentatively, I grabbed his right arm and swallowed hard in an attempt to calm the incessant beat of my heart, and I supported the saw blade on his shoulder.

The first cut made sprout a small amount of blood from his body, but as the sharp metal blade was being inserted deeper and deeper into the flesh, more and more of the vital liquid fell on the silvery and cold surface of the table.

His muscles felt like were tearing under the force of my hands, like his bones shatered and cut under the weight of the saw. I felt like my stomach was jumping from one side to another and how, at any time, nausea would seize me.

The sound of his arm when it broke away from his body was sticky and creepy, a sound that ran from my eardrums to the tips of my feet before returning to dig directly into my brain.

An intense and excruciating pain was installed behind my eyes, pulsing vigorously with each cut of the saw on the body. The blood was dark and thick; and fell down in aggressive drops. Drops that were gradually becoming threads of dark liquid and, eventually, became small waterfalls that were dotting my shoes and my pants, already spoiled because of the fight.

The smell of blood licked every corner, clung to the walls and made my head spin.

When Clarke returned to the garage, I was cutting the last of his legs. His arms lay on the floor beside the left leg, waiting for the right. Clarke watched me intently, her eyes darkening at times and, without saying anything, she walked up to me, leaving several cleaning products on the free table.

When I finally ended up with the right leg, I left it on the floor, running a hand through my hair to pull it away from face. Along with the moisture from the rain, the rapist’s dark blood stained my locks, my face, my clothes.

I was soaked in the blood of a man and I stank. I stank of death, of putrefy. I stank and was sure that, no matter how much I showered after this, that smell would never go away.

But there was still work to do.

I firmly grabbed the saw and, placing my free hand in the corpse's forehead, I supported the edge of the saw on his neck.

That's when Clarke placed her hand on mine, stopping me before making the first cut. I turned my head and looked at her from above. Clarke stared at me, her face without showing any feeling, but her eyes... Her eyes were a whirlwind, a storm, a hurricane of emotions. Her pupils were blown wide in the middle of that bright garage and my mouth watered.

"Let me do it. Get some rest." She said huskily and, putting her fingers beneath mine, she grabbed the saw. I could not do anything that was not nod and, with my eyes fixed on her face, I took a couple of steps back.

Without hesitation, Clarke took my place beside the body and, quickly and accurately, severed his head of his chest with five strokes of the saw and a powerful shot of blood went running from his neck.

The head of the rapist rolled across the table and fell with a thud on the floor. Silence filled the garage, a heavy and tense silence.

Outside, the rain was still falling and one of Clarke’s dogs barked in the distance.

\--- 

Everything was red.

The table. The floor. The car. The saw. Our clothes. Our hands. Our faces.

Our souls.

A few minutes had passed since the clock struck four o'clock in the morning and the warmth that was starting to get in the garage because of the three huge ovens operating at the time was overwhelming.

Rainwater had long that had been dried of my clothes, leaving an uneasy feeling of moisture in my body that was reinforced by the dark liquid of the rapist's body.

Clarke sat on the table and if being just over a pool of blood somehow disturbed her, she did not let it be seen.

With the ovens at full power, the pieces of the corpse would not take long to be reduced to ashes.

With a tired grunt, I left the table, holding my arm with one of my hands, just where the cut of the knife was still beating insistently, as a reminder that it was there, to not to forget about it. Clarke followed me with her eyes.

"We should look at that." It was all she said, her head slightly tilted to the right.

"I will when I made sure that there is nothing to incriminate us. And as you see, it's not the case." I said, pointing to the large bloodstain that almost covered the entire garage.

"Well, let's get go take care of it then." Clarke said, getting off the table with a jump. I just nodded my head.

An hour later, once the clock changed to five o'clock, the floor was as white as before, as if it never had been bathed in blood. The tables glittered, metallic and cold, and the saw, completely intact, had returned to its place in the toolbox. In the background, the sound of running ovens was still buzzing in my ears.

"What a night..." I muttered wearily and, next to me, Clarke nodded. I tilted my face a little in her direction and looked forward, my gaze moving through her side profile unconsciously.

Now free from any stain of blood on her face, I could watch her closely. The bruise through her cheekbone began to darken more and more, tarnishing her creamy white skin. Her lips, rosy and full, were tight in a tense line and her eyes, deep and enigmatic, seemed to change per second. Sometimes they shouted countless secrets, countless complaints. Sometimes they were an empty black hole devoid of emotion.

At that time, Clarke Griffin seemed the most convoluted mystery of the universe.

"Staring is rude." With a start, Clarke’s words took me out of my trance and, before I could separate my gaze of her face, her eyes met mine.

"I was just thinking that the bruise you have on your cheek is going to get very ugly tomorrow." I excused myself in the best way possible, furrowing my brows slightly in answer to the lopsided smile that sprang to her lips.

"As if your face looks better. You look like an abstract painting." She murmured softly, her blue eyes wandering down my face.

I had no doubt that Clarke’s words were true. Moreover, surely the amount of bruises and wounds that my body had to have at that point was too big to count. And then I remembered that that girl, that girl that I committed a crime for, that girl with which I killed a man was responsible for all the misfortunes that had happened to me over the last six months.

If at any time that night my inner walls had fallen, it was then when they returned to be built at high speed. My jaw clenched automatically, a bitter taste seized my mouth and the coldness that emanated from my voice made me shudder.

"I'm used to it, thanks to you." I said curtly, pulling away from her to get close to one of the ovens and watch the progress of decomposition of the body, it was almost done. I felt how the blonde winced at my side.

"Lexa..."

"I don't want you to say anything." I mumbled and, if Clarke had thought about making any attempt to approach me, she stopped abruptly. "I don't want to hear any explanation. Once tonight is over, everything will return to normal. You can go back to make my life a hell and enjoying it." Clarke looked up at me, a flash of guilt going through her eyes for a split second. It was enough to make my heart jump. Nausea came over me as devastating as a punch. "Where is the bathroom?"

"Last door on the right..." Clarke muttered softly, pointing to the small flight of stairs leading into her home.

I nodded and, without looking at her, I went to the bathroom. Once inside, I closed the door and leaned my back agaisnt the surface of green wood, sliding to the floor.

The enormous amount of emotions that came suddenly over me left me limply, like I was drowning. My heart was beating at full speed and my lungs were not working properly. My head was spinnning, my hands were sweaty and my eyes filled with tears that slid slowly down my cheeks.

At that time I did not understand the amount of contradictory emotions that mingled and fought inside my chest, consuming me. The fear of the night fell on me like a bucket of cold water, intertwining with a dark prick of hatred and an unexpected desire that caught me by surprise.

My body was tired, my muscles and injuries were asking me loudly to rest, to sleep twelve hours without even moving. But my mind was racing because, despite everything, there was still one last thing to do.

With that thought, I forced myself to relax. I breathed several times, deeply, letting the scented air of the bathroom to take over my lungs and clear the thick black cloud that had settled in my head. I stood up and, after drying the tears that had not escaped from the prison of my eyelids, I went back to the garage.

 

\--- 

Ashes.

Two expectant blue eyes and a lot of ashes was what was waiting for me to return to the garage. The ovens had done their job and the pieces of the murderer's body had dissolved in the gray powder, leaving the bones and teeth brittle and weak to the contact.  
Clarke was looking at the large trays full of gray dust, but alternated her gaze nervously at my face again and again. I turned my face to her and looked at her for a long time.

"Can you find a hammer? We have to break the bones, we can not leave them whole." Clarke nodded and, with a couple of strides, she went next to the toolbox, from which she took two big hammers.

Upon returning, she left them on the table and came back to me, her head slightly tilted to the right with a curious gesture.

"We have to take the trays out of the ovens." Clarke said, approaching a cabinet where several pairs of thick gloves mixed with bakery molds. She threw a pair of gloves at me and put some on her hands as well.

After removing the trays and, with infinite care, putting the ashes in a garbage bag, we put the bones and teeth on one of the tables. I grabbed one of the bones and squeezed a little, noticing how, under the force of my fingers, the weakened bone cracked and threatened to break.

"It will be very easy, a couple of hits and done." Clarke nodded and took one of the hammers and before I could prepare myself, the echo of the hammer against the metal table reverberated throughout the garage.

The weak bone easily dissolved into dust. Between the two of us we broke each of the bones and teeth, all that was left of the corpse. When a new mountain of gray dust was all that was left on the large metal table, Clarke and I left the hammers in place, a light sheen of sweat covering our foreheads and necks. Careful to not throw anything of the dust to the floor, we put it all in the bag that was containing the remaining ashes.

Clarke shook her hands and let out a heavy sigh, looking at the bag of ashes with a raised eyebrow before looking up to my face.

"What now?" She asked with a critical voice. I just shrugged and walked over to the bag, lifting it off the ground and putting it over my shoulder. A hiss of pain escaped my lips because of the protest of the muscles in my back and the cut my arm. A flash of concern appeared in Clarke's eyes. I clenched my jaw.

"Now we have to get rid of it." I said simply and, without looking at her more than necessary, started walking towards the garage door, intending to go back to the garden, where rain was still falling hard.

I could feel Clarke's eyes on my back for long seconds before a few quick steps echoed within the four walls.

 

\---

"Woods, let me take the bag." Clarke said, quickening her step a little to get to my side. We had left the house back and we were approaching a thick little forest that was kind of close. "Why do we have to go that far? My garden was enough."

I let out a loud sigh, stopping suddenly to look at her with a raised eyebrow.

"It is not very smart to hide the evidence of a crime in the garden, Clarke. You don't watch movies about cops and this stuff, don't you?" Clarke let out a loud snort and rolled her eyes, the rain making her long blonde hair to stick to her face and her clothes to stick to her body. I did my best to keep my eyes fixed on her face and not succumb to the temptation to see how her curves were in full display thanks to the rain.

"Anyway. Let me at least take the bag. You're bleeding again." The tone of concern with which her words were impregnated did not go unnoticed in my ears and a strange, warm feeling settled in my stomach, despite the cold of the night biting on my skin with every step.

"I'm fine." I replied dryly, still walking. From the corner of my eye I could see how Clarke rolled her eyes again, but she made no comment. We kept in silence until we arrived to the little forest, the sound of rain on the leaves of the trees being all that accompanied us on this journey amidst the darkness of the night.

When we finally stopped, I left the bag on the floor with a grunt of pain. Amid the darkness, the silhouettes of trees and bushes were so thick that it seemed that no one used to walk around these lands. Perfect.

"Let's spread them around here. At different places. With the rain they will be hidden quickly." Clarke nodded and before I could get the bag again, she stepped forward. I gave her a reproachful look that Clarke did not bother to give me back and, with quick steps, she began to scatter the ashes of the rapist in the woods, making a wide circle around me.

I leaned wearily against a tree, watching her run through the woods, leaving a trace of ash behind her. Rain mixed the ashes with the mud of the forest ground, making the task of finding them completely impossible.

A huge sense of relief caught fire in my chest and quickly spread through my body, in all possible directions. I rested my head on the hard and rough bark of the tree, breathing deeply, closing my eyes and simply letting the rain to wash away with every drop the strong emotions I had experienced that night.

"It is done. It's already done." I muttered to myself and, unwittingly, a wide smile crossed my lips. "Everything is fine."

When I opened my eyes again, amid the blackness of the night, I could see Clarke. With what I didn't counted was to see her a few inches away from my face.

Despite the darkness, her eyes shone like two stars, her pupils so dilated and black as the forest. Breath got cut in my throat and a new warmth settled in my chest, a warmth that slowly was moving south.

Wordlessly, Clarke walked toward the house, which shone in the distance, carrying the empty bag in one hand. I watched her walk away, the thick blanket of rain being the only thing between us. In my ears, my heart was beating in a competition with the thunderous sound of the drops hitting the leaves of the trees.

I breathed deeply again, pulled away from the tree and started walking behind her toward her house.

\---

The heat that the ovens had left in the garage was a blessing for my tired and cold body once we returned. My hair was dripping and my clothes weighed so much because of the rain water that I could hardly walk. Clarke was waiting for me next to the door leading into the house.

"Take the clothes that I brought you before, it's time to treat that damn arm." She said with a touch of weariness in her voice. Surely I was not the only one who was exhausted after such a long nigh. I just nodded my head and, after grabbing the clothes that earlier I had left resting on a shelf in the garage, I approached her.

Clarke opened the door and started walking down the long hallway until she turned right to enter the green door of the huge bathroom. Without thinking too much, I walked behind her.

Upon entering the bathroom, I put the dry clothes on a small cabinet that contained various shower products and stopped in the middle of the room, my hands awkwardly tucked into the pockets of my soaked pants. Clarke was crouched under the sink, looking for something and, when she got up, her hands were carrying a small first aid kit. She looked at me and raised an eyebrow when she saw me standing there and, with a nod, she told me to come close to her.

"If you do not approach me I can't treat your arm, Lexa." Clarke placed the kit over the sink and opened it as I approached her. My heart was beating a mile a minute and, unavoidably, my gaze moved freely down her face, examining her side profile, which, even with a horrible bruise across her cheek, seemed perfect.

Clarke then looked up at me and, once again, my breath got caught in my throat. One of her perfect eyebrows rose again slightly. "If you do not take off your shirt does not matter how much you come close to me, I will continue without being able to treat your arm." Unconsciously, I rolled my eyes and put my hands on the edge of my shirt, pulling it up to take it off.

It was a pretty difficult task. The fabric was soaked and clung to my body as if it was a second skin. In addition a puncturing pain went throught my back and my arm, like it was a protest that did not stop to reminding me that my body had been badly mistreated. Moreover, the pain did nothing but increase every moment. A new hiss escaped my lips and the shirt slipped from my fingers, falling to the ground with a rather unpleasant sound.

For the first time, I observed the cut that the bastard made me on my arm. It was deep, more than I had imagined, but still not enough to the point to need stitches. Raindrops that had seeped through my shirt mixed together with blood drops and ran down my arm, leaving several red roads up to the tips of my fingers. It hurt just to look at it.

"Son of a bitch..." I muttered softly, taking my hand to the cut reflexively. Before getting to touch the wound, Clarke's hand slapped mine away, looking at me with a frown and a strong blush on her cheeks. I raised my eyebrows at that sight.

"Don't touch it, it'll get worse." Clarke whispered softly, picking up a can of disinfectant and some gauze from the kit. "You are like a little kid, I swear..."

"Geez, thanks." Clarke clicked her tongue and after dedicating me a stern look, she poured a lot of liquid on the cut. A long hiss of pain escaped my lips, fire went down my arm and I swear I could see stars. "Damn, fuck... That hurts, holy shit..." Clarke laughed out loud and, unavoidably, a strong blush creeped up from my neck until it reached my face. I had heard her laugh many times before, but no time had it been as pure and calm as this sound.

Clarke continued to work on my arm, wiping it careful to not hurt me more than the burning of the disinfectant liquid. When she finished cleaning it, she wrapped a bandage around my arm, forcing a small and satisfied smile. Her gaze then fell on my body, blush again seizing her cheeks. "Do you have more injuries..?" She asked me quietly and in response to her scrutiny, a new blush appeared on my cheeks as I nodded.

"Most of them are bruises, I don't think you can do anything with them." Clarke looked up at me, her pupils gradually getting bigger and her rosy lips parted. When her gaze fell upon my lips, I held my breath. "You have a broken lip..." Was all she said.

"It's not because of tonight's fight." I shrugged, wetting my lips with my tongue. Clarke's eyes followed the movement and, almost impossibly, her pupils grew even wider, the sky color of her eyes almost disappearing under the weight of the pupil.

"It's my fault..." Clarke whispered, her voice hoarse and raspy, as I had never heard it before. My skin crawled. She was too close and the worst thing is that I did not want her to move away. Clarke lifted one of her hands and, with extreme care, went through my lower lip with her thumb. That warm feeling got caught in my chest again. Clarke looked into my eyes, those two dark wells shouting at full voice something that I could not decipher. "And you still helped me in that alley... Why? After all I've done to you, why didn't you just leave me there?" I opened my lips to reply, but the touch of her thumb on my lower lip cut any chance for me to speak, the closeness of her body to mine clouded my thought. When she had come so close to me? I could feel the damp touch of her clothes on my bare body and my fingers ached from the desire I had to touch her.

"Because I'm not the monster you insist on believing that I am..." I muttered, unable to keep my eyes away from her lips. It's the adrenaline letdown, I repeated to myself again and again. Deep down, I knew that that was not the reason.

"Thank you..." It was all she said, her thumb tracing the outline of my lower lip again, and before I knew it, her hand was placed on my neck and slowly she pulled me toward her, her eyes closing slowly. My brain simply disconnected at the time.

\---

If someone had asked me this very morning if I ever imagined kissing Clarke Griffin, I would have laughed in their faces and I would have just walk off at that time. But there, in the middle of the bathroom of Clarke Griffin's house, with her in my arms and her lips moving against mine, it seemed that it was impossible to think about anything else.

Her teeth were nibbling my upper lip, taking care not to hurt the wound that crossed just the middle of my lower lip; her hands were buried in my soaked brown locks and the wet touch of her shirt against my bare skin caused me to shiver because of the tremendous warmth that she was making me feel. My arms went around her waist, pulling her toward me, as if even the slightest distance was unbearable.

Her tongue found its way into my mouth and my tongue went to meet her, almost desperately. The low moan that came from her throat lit flames in my skin and made my tongue to move even more demanding against hers, fighting to dominate the kiss in a battle of wet members inside our mouths.

She smelled of rain, she smelled of blood, she smelled of earth; but still a stronger scent wafted through my nostrils and made me lose any ability of coherent thought, her very own scent, rich and mushy. I had no idea in which time of the night it had happened, but the desire to tear off her clothes increased with every touch of our tongues.

Because of the need to breathe, I broke the kiss, watching from the proximity of our position as her eyes opened, heavily, her lips swollen because of the kiss. I did not want to do anything that was not take possession of her mouth again.

Clarke released the grip that her arms had around my neck and, without waiting for a second, she took off her shirt, which fell to the ground with a heavy sound. Helplessly, my gaze swept her body, drinking every curve, absorbing the beauty of her breasts, which were restrained by a black bra, admiring that soft and creamy skin. My God, I had never seen anything so beautiful in my life. A strong pressure settled between my legs.

Clarke hold me again by my neck, crashing her mouth against mine in a searing kiss and this time I let my hands to roam freely around her back, tracing the outline of her spine with my fingertips. The purr that escaped from Clarke’s lips instigated me to repeat the movement.

"Touch me, Lexa..." Clarke said against my lips and I felt I was about to melt right there. "Touch me, please..." Her voice was hoarse with desire and, when one of her hands took one of mine and led it to one of her breasts, I could not do anything that was not to oblige.

My fingers slipped under the cold cloth of the bra, finding her warm skin just below. The sound of air being cut in Clarke’s lungs gave me the push I needed to catch her nipple between my fingers, playing with it and noticing how it was slowly hardening agaisnt my hand. A new whimper came from her throat and, with my good arm, I managed to sit her on the sink, placing myself comfortably between her legs.

I pulled away from her lips again, watching her expression for a moment before wrapping her body with my arms, grabbing the clasp of her bra with my hands to unfasten it. Before doint it, I looked one last time at her, for any type of signal. When I simply received a nod of her head, I unclasped the garment and slowly took it off from her body, dropping it to the ground.

The image in front of me took my breath away. Her breasts were big, but they were perky and firm, and the rosy nipples were erect because of the arousal. And I did not want to do anything that was not playing with them in my mouth.

"God, you're beautiful..." I muttered under my breath, tilting my head slightly until my lips were glued to her collarbones, which I nibbled gently. Gradually, I began to go down and, when finally one of those sweet nipples got caught between my lips, I was the one who moaned. Clarke’s hands were buried in my hair, pulling me closer to her chest and, while one of my hands played with her free breast, the other was busy caressing one of her thighs, marveling at the softness of her white and creamy skin.

"G-God... Lexa..." Clarke groaned, sliding her hands down my back to stop at the snap of my own bra, which was soon removed. I moved my arms a little so that the garment could fall to the floor and when I felt a small pull in my hair, I lifted my face to Clarke, letting go of the nipple with I was playing with my tongue in my mouth. Her cheeks were flushed and her face darkened with desire. And I had never seen anything so beautiful. Her hands fell from my hair to my breasts, gently caressing them and with the most hoarse and sensual voice I've ever heard, Clarke whispered. "Take me to my room, Lexa. Take me to my bed and fuck me. I need you to touch me and to not stop touching me for the rest of night."

My throat dried and, at the same time, my mouth watered. Without answering her, I circled her waist with my arms and lifted her from the sink. Clarke circled my waist with her legs to hold on to me and to not make me force too much my wounded arm; her lips meet mine again in a damp and devastating kiss. "It is the door across the living room." She mumbled against my lips before hers got lost in my neck, where I felt the touch of her teeth and the suction that she had begun to make right in the place where my pulse beated faster. I noticed how my legs got weaker with every step, so I hurried to get to her room as soon as possible.

Once in her room, I could not help myself and pushed her into the wall, the moan that escaped her lips dying against my neck. I let her body slide slightly agaisnt mine until one of my legs was placed between hers. I squeezed slightly and felt instantly as her hips began to grind against my thigh, a moan escaping my lips in response.

"God, Lexa..." Clarke said against my neck, crossing it with her tongue up to my ear, which she caught between her teeth, the movement of her hips becoming a little more insistent if it was possible.

When I pulled my leg away from between hers, Clarke whimpered, looking at me reproachfully under her long lashes. But her expression quickly transformed into one of pleasure when I pressed one of my hands against her cunt, rubbing it gently over the fabric of her shorts.

"Is this what you want, Clarke..?" I murmured in her ear, touring the earlobe with the tip of my tongue. I felt her body shudder against mine.

"Y-Yes... Damn..." Clarke threw her head back, offering her neck to me. Without hesitation, I pressed my lips to the thin line of her throat, running its length with my tongue before intercalate kisses, aggressive bitings and sucking on the creamy whiteness of her skin. My hands were busy fighting with her soaked shorts, trying to get rid of them.

The garment soon fell to the ground with her underwear and, after I threw them aside with a kick, I parted abruptly from her neck to my nail knees on the floor. I looked up at her, watching the aroused expression of her face and I could not help but crack a satisfied smile. Knowing that she was watching me, I placed my lips on the inside of one of her thighs and, staring into her blue eyes, I slipped my tongue up her skin. Her eyes closed immediately, her body trembling because of the expectation. But before reaching the secret she kept between her legs, I stopped, leaving provocative nibbles in her groin. In response, I heard a growl that just broadened my smile.

"What do you want, Clarke?" I said hoarsely, walking my tongue terribly near her center, feeling the soft hairs that protected it against my cheek.

"I want you..." She said with the same hoarse voice, and her words made my heart to give a jump inside my chest. "I want your mouth between my legs; I want your fingers inside of me..." Her words pushed me slowly into madness and I could feel how my selfcontrol was about to disappear from my body. "Please Lexa..."

I did not need more than that to bury my face between her legs, the deep and animalistic moan that sprang from the depths of her chest being more than enough reward.

Clarke was warm, soft and intoxicating. Her taste, God, her taste... I have never tasted anything so addictive in my life. Her hands were buried again in my hair as my tongue paced the length of her folds, stroking teasingly her entrance. The moans did not stop going out from between her lips and, looking up at her face, I could see that her head was thrown back, exposing her neck in all its splendor, and her breasts moved up and down with the force of her uneven breathing. Her hips grinded again against my face, riding my mouth, so I caught her clit between my lips, sucking it hard.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Lexa..." Her nails dug into my nape, insistently, squeezing me more against herself as if that was possible. And I let her do it because all I wanted then was to melt against her body; my tongue moving restlessly on her clit, drawing countless of shapes and lines on it, with the sole purpose of making her cross her own limit. The symphony of gasps and moans escaping from her lips was sufficient incentive to make me keep going.

The rhythm of my movements were encompassed with her hips, increasing progressively the intensity and, when suddenly her body tensed and her back arched with the longest moan I've ever heard, my thirsty tongue received until the last drop of pleasure that left Clarke's body.

Her movements were becoming more and more slow and, with them, my mouth on her body, helping her to come down from the cloud of the orgasm. The grip of her fingers on my hair was slowly loosening and, when it seemed that her knees were going to give in, I got up and put my arms around her body, holding her in her feet. Her face was flushed with the orgasm and a stupid grin danced on her lips, her eyes clouded with pleasure.

"Are you okay?" I asked. Clarke nodded and lifted her chin to leave a kiss on my lips, which deepened quickly. When she could taste herself, a new moan escaped her throat.

Carefully, I took her to bed and after laying her down comfortably in the sheets, I got rid of the rest of my clothes before approaching her again.

Her warm body welcomed mine, her legs going around my waist and because of that I fell on top of her; her lips found mine in a kiss that was smoother and more tender than our previous kisses.

I wanted to ask many things, but the words seemed to have lost any sense in my head. I just knew how to kiss her, I just knew to wallow in how well her skin felt against mine. My fingers were burning and itching to touch her and, before I knew it, my right hand had slipped between her legs. Her eyes closed heavily when my fingers came in contact with her folds, her breathing slowing down considerably.

"Umgh... Come on, Lexa..." She muttered quietly, biting her lower lip. Two of my fingers slipped easily inside of her. Clarke was soaked, warm and sweet. And it was all my fault.

My fingers began to move inside of her, faster and faster, flexing when my knuckles collided with her entrace and prevented my long fingers to reach deeper. Her moans and gasps trickled directly through my ear and traveled up to my brain, making me to just want to continue listening to those amazing sounds. They were so fucking addictive.

Then one of Clarke’s legs slipped between mine, her thigh with soft and creamy skin pressed against my cunt, my arousal-swollen clit sending countless of pleasure waves to every corner of my body. Helplessly, I began to grind against her thigh, looking for my own release, while my fingers were still playing with her.

Our movements were up to at the same time, going perfectly to the rhythm of the symphony that were our combined moans and, when orgasm broke through us both at the same time, explosively, like a fireworks festival just behind our eyes; our entwined bodies and hearts beating at the same time, I realized that that night had changed too many things in my life.

But at that time, I didn't stopped to think about it. There would be time for that the next morning.

At that moment I just wanted to get lost with Clarke between the sheets of her bed, letting free a feeling I didn't know it existed until that very moment.


End file.
